


Auld Lang Syne

by Aleigh75



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Harry almost dies again, New Year's Eve, One Shot, Sappy, Sexual Content, Swearing, not as bad as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleigh75/pseuds/Aleigh75
Summary: A few years after the Battle of Hogwarts Hermione reluctantly attends a New Years Eve party, where something happens to make her realize that the love of her life has been right under her nose all along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I don't own them, I'm just playing with them for a while...

Chapter 1

“Honestly, Ginny. This is ridiculous. I’ve had a really long week, and I’d truly rather curl up with a good book in front of the fireplace tonight...” Hermione protested as her friend waved her wand vigorously about her head, muttering spells under her breath in a futile attempt to get Hermione’s curls under some semblance of control.

“Of course you would. That’s the problem. You’re never going to meet any single men lounging about in front of your fireplace,” Ginny grumbled, moving to Hermione’s other side, and continuing her spell-casting. “It’s not like handsome single blokes floo in on a regular basis!” she muttered as she worked on smoothing Hermione’s hair into a sleek updo.

“Is Father Christmas still married?” Luna murmured thoughtfully from her place on Hermione’s sofa.

“Er...yes, I believe so...” Ginny replied to the blonde witch in a very serious manner before turning to Hermione and making a wide eyed face that clearly asked, ‘ _Is she joking_?!’ It was always so hard to tell with Luna. “Anyway, he and ‘Mione would never get along...he has all those elves working for him...” she quipped, winking teasingly.

Hermione barely suppressed a giggle. “I really don’t mind being single though!” she insisted, ignoring the obvious jab about S.P.E.W. “I like my life right now. I love my job, and I love my friends.” she gestured at the large collection of framed photos of her friends and family that covered her bookshelves, end tables, and mantel. “And I _do_ go on dates! I’m _fine_. Honestly!” It was true...she went out fairly often, and had even dated a few men long term. She hadn’t met ‘the one,’ yet, but she really wasn’t worried about that. She was only twenty three, for Merlin’s sake!

“You’ve been saying that for years! It’s time for you to move on! Settle down!” Ginny exclaimed frustratedly.

“Move on?” Hermione blinked in confusion, then gaped at her best friend in mock horror. “Wait. Do you think I’m still hung up on _Ron_?!” she asked, unable to keep from laughing. “No offence, but your brother isn’t so wonderful as to render me incapable of getting over him. Our break up was a mutual decision.” Just like every guy she’d dated since him. Not that she was concerned...

“And what a wonderful decision that was.I’m especially fond of how it worked out for _me_ ,” Luna murmured. When Hermione shot her a grin, the blonde winked back in one of her rare moments of...clarity wasn’t quite the right word, and neither was seriousness. Hermione recognized  that Luna had momentarily let the ‘mask’  of ditziness she normally wore slip a bit. It didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, Hermione felt like she’d been given a special gift.

“I'm so glad things are working out for you,Lu,”  she replied, playfully sticking out her tongue, even though she was completely sincere. Ron and Luna had been together for about a year now, and though they probably seemed like complete opposites to people who didn’t know them well, they made perfect sense. Luna helped Ron see ‘outside the box,’ and in return, he kept her from getting completely lost in the clouds. Ron was still one of Hermione’s best friends, and she was really glad that he’d found someone who made him so happy. (Never mind that Luna had been right under his nose since at least fifth year...)

“But really...I’m quite happy. It’s not like I’m withering away with loneliness...” she gestured at the pictures again.

“Maybe we just want to see you as happy as we are,” Ginny murmured. Hermione caught her friend glance down at her left hand, a soft smile lighting up her face. Hermione couldn’t help but smile too. After Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies faced each other in an epic seventeen hour Quidditch match three months after Ginny had joined the Harpies, she and Oliver Wood had begun dating. He’d proposed to her on Christmas Eve, dropping to one knee in front of all of her friends and family. Hermione was pretty sure Molly was _still_ screaming with joy.

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to meet anyone new at Neville’s party,” she pointed out rather lamely, already feeling her resistance beginning to wane. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t enjoy parties, and it _would_ be nice to see all of her old classmates from Hogwarts again. She just knew that on this particular night, everyone around her was likely to be engaged in...’coupley’ behavior, as be fitted the occasion.  Hermione generally preferred to avoid being the odd man...er...woman, out. This year, even Neville had a serious long term girlfriend. Not that this was so very surprising...the man had aged incredibly well.

“Hannah said there will be a few new people there,” Ginny argued. “She’s invited a few of her cousins who are visiting from America. Either way, you can’t just sit at home alone on New Year’s Eve, and that’s final!” She placed her hands on her hips, eyeing Hermione’s hair critically. “Okay, your hair is done...now go get dressed!” She hadn’t even allowed Hermione to go her bedroom when she and Luna had first arrived carrying garment bags, shoes and the other things they’d need to prepare for the party. She was probably afraid her older friend would try to escape out the window.

“Maybe you just need to take a new look at some of the _old_ faces,” Luna chirped, her tone a bit _too_ absent-minded to be innocent as Hermione reluctantly rose to obey.

“Well, that will be difficult considering everyone will be wearing masks,” Hermione pointed out, rolling her eyes. For some reason, Neville and Hannah had decided to make their New Year’s Eve party a fancy dress party...a true old fashioned masquerade ball with formal attire, elegant masks, and dancing.

Ginny shoved one of the garment bags at Hermione, and made shooing motions toward the short hallway leading back to her bedroom. “Get dressed. You. Now!” she ordered, laughing.

“Okaaaaay! Sheesh! I’m going!” Hermione inwardly cursed Harry for not returning from his recent top secret assignment today, like he was supposed to. Together, perhaps they could have presented a united front against his stubborn ex-girlfriend. Together, they might even have talked their way out of attending the party entirely. At the very least they would have kept each other company there after everyone else paired off. Unfortunately she hadn’t heard from him for several days until a few hours ago when she received a brief, apologetic note (delivered by a very ruffled and confused looking owl) saying he would not be back in time for the party.

Once she’d closed herself in her bedroom, Hermione unzipped the bag, and stuck her tongue out at the little red satin dress Ginny had insisted she wear. She had to admit it wasn’t exactly skimpy, but it had thin spaghetti straps, and was rather more fitted than she would normally wear. The sweetheart neckline revealed a lot more cleavage than Hermione was entirely comfortable with (which was to say _any_ ). The skirt stopped a good three inches above her knees, which made her question if she’d be able to sit down in the blasted thing. After changing out of her jeans and well worn Gryffindor quidditch jersey (“borrowed” from Ron or Harry so long ago she couldn’t recall which of them it belonged to), she stood in front of the mirror, going through a series of exaggerated movements to make sure that the dress safely covered everything.

After casting a few strategically placed sticking charms, she sighed heavily, and shrugged at her reflection. She had to admit that she looked quite nice. Ginny had worked wonders on her hair, styling it in a sleek updo, leaving a few carefully arranged curls hanging down around her face. The dress showed off the curves she normally kept hidden under loose robes, thick jumpers and the many oversized t-shirts she’d “borrowed” from the boys over the years.

As it was, Hermione barely recognized herself. When she placed the matching sequin-covered half-mask over her eyes, fixing it in place with another sticking charm, she gasped quietly. If she didn’t know she was looking at herself, she almost wouldn’t recognize the person in the mirror.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” Her reflection asked, preening. “I didn’t know we had it in us!”

“Oh shush,” Hermione ordered gently, smiling despite herself as she slid her feet into a pair of delicate black kitten heels.

Ginny let out a wolf whistle when she walked back into the living room. Luna was nowhere in sight, but Hermione knew she was probably in the bathroom adding the final touches to her own outfit. Ginny motioned for Hermione to twirl for her, and after playfully obeying, Hermione gestured for her friend to do the same. “Oliver’s going to trip over his own tongue,” she observed, wiggling her eyebrows.

Ginny’s short, tight black dress was by far the most revealing of the three girls’ outfits, barely reaching her mid thigh. The front was fairly modest, barely dipping below her collar bones, and it had long, fitted sleeves, but it was completely backless. Hermione wasn’t sure if her friend could actually wear knickers underneath, considering how low the garment plunged in the back.

Ginny smirked a bit arrogantly, mumbling, “That’s rather the point,” as she slipped on a small silver-sequined mask that barely concealed her face. “How do I look?” she asked, touching her hair, which she had arranged in a style similar to Hermione’s, minus the dangling curls.

“Beautiful, as usual,” Hermione murmured, smiling reassuringly.

“Oh, you both look lovely!” Luna exclaimed from the hallway, clapping her hands excitedly. The Ravenclaw was going to make Ron’s head spin in her gorgeous peacock blue dress, which she'd accessorized with a matching headpiece topped with feathers in various shades of blue, green and purple. The colors really suited her.  The dress itself was a bit less modest than Hermione’s, with a deep v-neckline, and small mesh-covered cutouts covering her abdomen that gave an impression of more feathers. The peacock effect continued in a full, rounded train in the back, which was covered with more feathers. The front of her skirt was approximately the same length as Hermione’s

Ginny and Hermione both fawned over the blonde for a minute or so before they all gathered their cloaks and handbags, and left the flat. None of them wanted to risk getting soot on their clothing, so they had decided to apparate to Neville’s flat despite the especially chilly temperatures London had been experiencing that week. Both Hermione and Neville lived close to Ministry approved apparition spots, so mere moments after stepping into the deserted alley between Hermione’s building and the next, they were standing in the hallway outside of Neville’s flat, shaking snow from their shoes while they waited for him to answer the door. Judging by the noise coming from inside, the party was already well underway.

The door finally popped open after almost a minute. “Welcome, ladies!” Neville greeted them enthusiastically, kissing them each on the cheek before ushering them inside, and closing the door. The girls were rather early, but there were already a few dozen people gathered in the living room; Neville and Hannah had invited pretty much everyone who had gone to Hogwarts within a few years of them. Hermione really hoped they had cast an extension charm on their modest-sized flat, or it was going to get rather uncomfortable before the night was through. “I’m so glad you all made it!” Neville said as he took their cloaks, giving Hermione a pointed look. She just rolled her eyes, and smiled weakly, trying not to feel guilty that she’d almost skipped the party. “Food’s over there...” he continued, gesturing toward a table near the entrance to the kitchen. “There’s more in the kitchen. Make yourselves at home!” he exclaimed over his shoulder as another knock drew his attention back to the door.

Several more guests arrived over the next hour or so, and the flat gradually became packed with people. Standing in a corner overlooking the front door, Hermione, Luna and Ginny amused themselves by trying to figure out who everyone was behind their masks. There were only a few whom Hermione was able to identify without any difficulty, such as Draco Malfoy, with his unmistakeable blond hair, and the Patil twins, who wore gorgeous red and blue silk saris. There were others whom she was hard pressed to identify. She never would have guessed that Susan Bones would wear the skimpy little black beaded dress that she was currently sporting. She was fairly sure that Ernie Macmillan was using a spell to make himself seem much taller (and thinner) than he had been at Hogwarts. There were a few guests that she still hadn’t identified when Ron finally arrived shortly before ten. She watched with a soft smile on her face as Luna greeted him enthusiastically. Their ‘greeting’ dragged on for several increasingly awkward seconds (for those nearby, anyway) before Ron finally pried his lips away from his girlfriend’s.

“Did something happen?” Hermione asked, hoping Ron had news about why Harry hadn't returned from his mission yet. The two weren’t partners, and rarely worked together, but as a fellow auror, she hoped Ron was privy to more information than she was.

“Huh? Like what?” Ron shot her a blank look, then shrugged dismissively. Hermione wasn’t sure if he was trying to downplay the seriousness of whatever was delaying Harry, or if he was just being his usual, oblivious, slightly self-centered self. When he turned to Luna with a hangdog expression, and asked, “Does Neville have any decent nosh at this thing, or should I have grabbed take-away?” she decided he was just being _Ron_. Belatedly recognizing his poor manners, he shrugged apologetically and explained, “Sorry, I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. I spent all day following this bloke we suspected was illegally selling pepper-up potions to muggles. It turned out they were just muggle energy drinks!”

“Hannah knew you were coming, so there’s a whole pizza with your name on it in the kitchen,” Luna replied, grinning affectionately after him when he immediately set off in that direction. “I should probably go make sure he doesn’t eat the whole kitchen,” she sighed softly, giving a brief wave before following him.

“How does he stay so fit, eating like he does?” Oliver (who had arrived only a few minutes before his future brother-in-law) asked Ginny, looking impressed, but also a tiny bit horrified.

“Good genes? Or all that auror training? Maybe both?” Ginny shrugged before stretching up on her toes to kiss him. “I don’t really care...” she mumbled against his lips. Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

Hermione immediately took this as her cue to give the newly engaged couple as much privacy as could be had in the crowded flat. She’d already mingled dutifully for a couple of hours, and even with expansion and cooling charms in place, the flat was crowded and getting rather hot and stuffy. Deciding to go outside for some fresh air, she made her way across the living room, and slipped through the doorway that led to the main reason Neville had chosen to rent this particular flat in the first place...an impressively large balcony overlooking the city. There was room for perhaps a dozen people to gather comfortably, with a few wicker chairs arranged around a small glass topped table at one end. Despite the ample space, the only current occupants were two witches, who were huddled, shivering, at the far end. They were smoking clove cigarettes, but Hermione was used to Harry sometimes smoking them, and didn’t mind the smell, so she decided to stay.

After casting a warming spell on the area, she leaned against the railing to look out over the lights of London. The night was windy, but surprisingly clear after the stormy weather they’d been having all week, and it was nice to get a break from all the heat and noise inside the flat, and she quickly became absorbed in the gorgeous view. She’d lost track of how long she’d been outside when she heard a soft creaking sound behind her, and turned to find a broad-shouldered man. He was fairly tall, but not as tall as Ron, and his face was obscured by an ornate venetian-style bird mask. The only thing that really stood out about him, the mask was black with red and gold sequined trim, a large, rather realistic looking, hooked beak, and long, thin black feathers sweeping back from the top edge, covering most of his hair. He was dressed in black trousers, and a dark blue henley shirt, which didn’t go with the mask at all. In fact, his plain clothing made the mask seem overdone, and out of place, despite the fact that everyone else was wearing masks. His darkly stubbled chin was exposed (and struck her as vaguely familiar), but no other identifiable features were visible...not even his eyes, which seemed to be covered in some sort of opaque mesh attached to the mask. After staring at him for several seconds, Hermione had a weird feeling that she ought to recognize him, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out who he was. It took her a moment to realize he seemed to be staring at her, as well.

“Do I know you?” she asked, chuckling awkwardly, and reaching up to brush a stray curl behind her ear, for lack of a better way to cover up her slight embarrassment at being caught blatantly gawking at him.

“You can see me?” The man blurted, his jaw dropping slightly. Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion, which he must have sensed through her mask, because he shook his head slightly, and mumbled, “Sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. Excuse me...” he added, turning toward the door.

Hermione winced, assuming he felt uncomfortable about their mutual staring session. “No. Please stay. I’ve been out here for ages, anyway...I should probably get back inside,” she murmured, pushing away from the railing. “It’s all yours.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” he said, sounding a bit nervous. “I just...uh....I needed some fresh air.” After having heard him speak a few times, Hermione was certain that his voice was being altered somehow; it sounded...thin seemed to be the best way to describe it; too high, and almost echo-y. Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, and looked him over again, still unable to figure out who she was speaking with. She had the oddest feeling, like the answer was _right there_ , circling around her head, but it kept darting away every time she tried to grasp it. It made her think of the flying keys she had encountered during her first year at Hogwarts. In fact, she could almost hear a soft buzzing sound, just out of earshot.“Yes, you do know me,” the stranger said after another awkward moment, smiling almost apologetically. “Quite well, actually.”

“Ugh...I knew it!” Hermione exclaimed, embarrassed that she’d been so obvious in her effort to identify him. “I give up...who are you?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” he asked, grinning weakly. “There’s no point in me telling you, anyway,” he added, sighing heavily.

“Why not?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Just trust me,” he mumbled, shrugging helplessly.

“It's obviously some sort of spell...” Hermione murmured thoughtfully, moving closer, and squinting at the eye holes in his mask, still unable to make out the shape and color of his eyes. “Your voice sounds funny, and...is that some sort of disillusionment spell on your eyes?” The harder she tried to see past the mask, the harder it was to focus on him, or even remember why she was looking. “Wait...not disillusionment...a confounding spell. And it’s not on your eyes...it’s on _you_! All of you?”

“That’s partially right.” He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his tone. “You’re amazing, Hermione. Most people don't seem to even notice I’m here.”

“Is it part of your costume? No offense, but your mask doesn’t really go with...” she gestured vaguely at his overly casual clothing. “Why would you cast a confounding spell on yourself when you're already wearing a mask?” Hermione asked, shaking her head slightly to try to clear the mental fog his spell was causing.”It's just a party. The masks are coming off at midnight anyway...”

“This isn't exactly the costume I planned to wear here tonight. And the spell was definitely not supposed to be part of it,” he sighed heavily, moving closer and leaning against the railing beside her. “It’s pretty late,” he observed, suddenly sounding concerned as he looked her over closely. “You have goosebumps. How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t really know,” she admitted, shrugging. “I...I really don’t like parties with this many people. I mean, don't get me wrong...I love Neville and Hannah. I adore almost everyone here, but I prefer to socialize when they’re in much smaller groups. With everyone crammed together in such a small space...it’s a bit overwhelming after a while.”

“You didn’t want to come at all,” he said, nodding knowingly. “Ginny forced you to come.”

Hermione blinked as something flickered in the back of her mind. “You know Ginny?”

“Doesn't everyone?” he replied, grinning teasingly. “Try not to think about it, Hermione. You might damage that wonderful brain...” he raised his hand as if to tap her forehead, but stopped short, lowering it slowly.

“It’s impossible _not_ to think about it, and this whole thing is infuriating,” Hermione shot back, too frustrated to deal with the fact he’d almost touched her as if it was second nature. The gesture seemed familiar, but not, all at once...just like everything else about him. No one she knew touched her so casually, not since she and Ron split up. “Just tell me who you are!” she yelled, losing whatever patience she’d had with the situation.

She couldn’t really focus on his eyes, but he seemed to be gazing at her thoughtfully. After a few moments of what seemed to be an intense internal struggle, he sighed and muttered, “I can’t tell you. The spell...” he trailed off, looking frustrated, then said, his voice nearly a whisper, “But I won't be here much longer, and you’ll forget like everyone else.”

A feeling of dread began to build in Hermione’s stomach at his words, and she turned to look back out over the city. “Can I keep guessing?” she asked quietly after a few minutes of strained silence.

“It won't do any good, but go ahead,” he mumbled, his voice flat.

“Um...George?” Hermione asked, squinting to see if she could make out his hair under the feathers, but either it was too dark on the balcony, or the spell was too strong.

The wizard seemed to find this highly amusing. “No! I think I’m flattered though,” he murmured, smiling teasingly.

Hermione swallowed nervously. “Why are you flattered?”

He moved a tiny bit closer, and she took a small, corresponding step back. “Well, I know that you think George is an attractive guy, so...”

“That’s not why I guessed you were George! I can’t even see any of the parts of you that I find attractive on George!” Hermione blurted, then clapped her hand over her mouth, laughing nervously. “That sounded all wrong. I think he has pretty eyes, and nice cheekbones. I only guessed you might be him because this spell of yours is damned annoying, but clever, and _that’s_ right up his alley.”

“Okay, I'll give you that, but I’m not George, and I didn't cast this on myself, I walked into it, as I am not particularly clever, either, apparently.” The masked wizard seemed to deflate slightly, and Hermione felt unreasonably guilty for making him feel bad.

Looking him over surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye, she mumbled, “Well, I should have known better because I can tell you’re more fit than George is.” It was true, and she had meant to cheer him up, but now he was gloating a bit, which was definitely _not_ attractive. His sudden display of vanity gave her another idea. “Wait...are you...” she squinted at him again, trying to focus. “No...you’re not tall enough...” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Who did you think of though?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“You’re not skinny enough, either...” she mused, tapping her lips, purposely tormenting him.

“Are you saying I’m fat? You just said I was more fit than George...” he protested.

Hermione laughed. “Well, your head almost visibly swelled when I said _that_ , so I thought for a moment maybe you were Malfoy...” she teased, knowing full well that he wasn’t.

“Eww...no. That’s just mean,” her mysterious companion complained, grimacing.

“He’s not that bad anymore,” Hermione said, chuckling at his reaction. “Not like he was in school...” she wrinkled her nose, remembering some of the horrible things Malfoy used to say about her and the Weasleys.

“You know, in a movie, it would turn out that I _am_ him,” he pointed out with a grin.

“Well, I don’t think we'll catch Draco Malfoy watching a movie anytime soon, let alone casually referring to them, so I think I’m safe. Besides, he wouldn’t be out here alone. He just got engaged,” Hermione informed him. “To Astoria Greengrass. They’re both over the moon about it, and practically joined at the hip tonight.”

“Wow, everyone’s getting engaged. Or at least dating. I think we’re the only ones who haven’t gotten together yet.” He stopped talking abruptly, and turned to look out over the city.

“Oh, so you’re single.” Hermione felt an odd sort of thrill at hearing this. Trying not to let it show, she said, “There are still a few of us single people left. I mean...whoever _you_ are, me, Seamus, Padma...I’m forgetting someone. It’s probably _you_ , right?” She struggled with the ‘on tip of her tongue’ sensation again for a moment, but the buzzing in her head got louder the harder she tried to remember. “You said you’re someone I'm really close to...”

“Yes,” he confirmed, shrugging dejectedly. “By the way...Seamus and Padma are dating now, don't you remember?” he said, chuckling quietly. “Talk about a strange couple...”

“I thought he was gay?” Hermione blurted confusedly, completely losing her train of thought.

“He’s bi,” he replied, chuckling again.

Hermione was overwhelmed with a wave of deja vu so strong her whole body jerked like she'd touched an exposed electrical current, and she had to grab onto the railing to steady herself. “We’ve already had this conversation, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, sorta. You were a bit out of it from a headache potion at the time, though,” he said, reaching out to pat her shoulder, but yanking his hand away at the last second.

“That is one nasty spell you’ve got on you, Mister,” Hermione grumbled as her head swim dizzily.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “I didn't know it would affect you at all. I just wanted to see you before...” he trailed off, clearing his throat and turning away for a moment.

“Can’t you try casting a counterspell or ‘ _finite_ ’ or something?” Hermione grumbled, growing frustrated. “Or go to St. Mungo's like a normal person, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I tried all of that. The Healer threw up when he tried to focus on my face...thus the mask,” he explained, gesturing vaguely at his head. “Besides, I'm sure if it was _that_ easy to remove, it wouldn’t work for...er...its intended purpose,” he continued. “I know I probably shouldn’t have come here tonight, but I knew Ginny would force you to come, and that you’d eventually wind up off in a corner by yourself, not mingling...”

“You really do know me well,” Hermione said, laughing sheepishly.

“I do,” he murmured, moving closer to her again. This time she didn’t move away. “I didn’t want you to be alone on New Year’s Eve, ‘Mione.” He reached out again, and this time touched her cheek briefly, sending a shiver down her spine before he turned back to the railing. “I wanted to have this one last night...” he suddenly clenched his fists and slammed them on the rail in front of him, cursing loudly. “Dammit...this isn't how tonight was supposed to go!”

Hermione frowned confusedly, struggling to think clearly in spite of the spell. Judging by what he'd said (and her own instinct, the masked man was someone extremely close to her, and it sounded like he cared a lot about her. She tried to remember who had been around the last time she’d taken a headache potion, but between the influence of the spell, and how out of it she had been from the migraine that had caused her to take said headache potion in the first place...”Wait! Do you work at the Ministry? I took that potion right before I headed home from work on Thursday. I didn’t talk to anyone but...eww...Mr. Jensen?” she exclaimed, horrified that she might have been semi-flirting with her middle aged supervisor from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The older wizard was nice enough, but had very hairy ears, and he always smelled a bit like the expensive but pungent French cheeses he particularly fancied. He wasn’t very fit, but maybe the spell had given him the appearance of having nicely toned abs? She leaned slightly toward the masked figure in front of her, sniffing cautiously.

“What?! No!” The wizard gasped in horror. “Merlin, no! It’s not a bloody miracle cure for body odor!” he exclaimed, laughing and looking a bit disgusted at the same time.

“So, you do know Mr. Jensen then,” Hermione noted, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “The only person I talked to on Thursday afternoon other than him was...” she thought hard, but came up with nothing but a sort of empty, aching feeling in her chest like her heart had been ripped out. “Dammit...it was _you_ , obviously... but I’ve got nothing...” she gestured wildly with her hands, beginning to panic as she became increasingly aware that someone vitally important was missing from her thoughts and memories. She wondered if it was someone who could calm her down if she had a panic attack like the one she was now experiencing. “Oh gods...” she whimpered, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Hey...it’s okay. I’m right here, ‘Mione. I’m here,” the masked wizard murmured soothingly, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come,” he said again, gently rubbing her back. “Like I said, I just had to see you. I _needed_ to see you.”

“Who _are_ you?” Hermione whispered. “I...I think I need...you...everything feels all _wrong_...” she grimaced, shuddering.

“Try not to think about it...” he suggested quietly. “Even if I keep telling you, you don't seem to be able to maintain the memory...”

Hermione sighed heavily, realizing he was probably right. “This is horrible,” she grumbled, moving away from him once her heart rate and breathing had calmed down. “Who would invent a spell like this? What’s the point? It’s terrible!”

“Do you want me to leave? I don't think there's much time left, but I didn’t realize it would be this upsetting for you...” he murmured, then reached out as if to touch her cheek again, but stopped himself. “I thought you wouldn’t know I was here at all. I just wanted to be with you. I'm kind of scared.” He ducked his head briefly, scrunching his shoulders up around his ears. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he whispered, sounding utterly miserable.

“Wait...” Hermione frowned worriedly as something occurred to her, then shook her head. “This isn't just some weird temporary disillusionment spell, is it?”

He took a bleep breath, then sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to tell you, but no. It's more like an extremely powerful obliviation spell, but with a side of actually erasing the person everyone has forgotten,” he murmured reluctantly. “It seems to be kind of slow-acting. It started with people at the scene not recognizing me. And I mean...no one. Which, trust me, is really bizarre. Then, when I decided to go to Mungo’s, my records weren’t there, and the Healer couldn’t look directly at me without throwing up. He managed to figure out what the spell was doing, but before he could try to reverse it, he seemed to forget I was there, and just walked away. I realized he couldn't even see me anymore. Then I realized no one could.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione gasped, putting her hand on his arm without thinking. “Do you think...” she hesitated, biting her lip. “Are you going to...”

“Be completely erased?” he asked shakily. “I think so, yeah.” He nodded briefly. “So, after that, I had to come find you. I didn’t bother changing because no one could see me anyway. I’d picked up my mask from this costume shop in Edinburgh this morning...when I thought I would be coming here as a regular guest. After the Healer barfed on my shoes, I decided to wear it just in case. I guess I sort of hoped if anyone could see me despite the spell, it would be _you,_ Hermione.”

Hermione frowned, struggling to wrap her head around the situation. "Are we...together? I know Ginny was lecturing earlier me for not dating, but I feel like I spend a lot of time with someone. With _you_ , right?” When she thought hard about it, she noticed there seemed to be a lot of holes in her memories of her social life. Most of them seemed to be focused around nights spent at home in her flat, though there were several associated with the Burrow, as well. Was he a Weasley? That didn’t seem right...but she had a feeling she was getting closer to the right answer. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize her magic drawing back the missing pieces and sticking them back in place. It was an exercise she'd read about while researching how to restore her parents missing memories after the war, and she figured it couldn't hurt...

“We spend a lot of time together, but we’re not dating. I...I don’t think you think of me that way.” Now he sounded even sadder than before, and Hermione frowned again.

“But do you think of me that way?” she asked shyly.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged dejectedly, and looked down at his feet. “Forget I said anything. I'm sure you'll forget all of this soon anyway,” he muttered.

Hermione followed his gaze, and tilted her head to one side. “I recognize your shoes!” she blurted excitedly.

“You do?” he asked curiously, looking back up.

“Yeah...they’re so familiar...one of my friends has a pair just like them. It’s probably you,” Hermione mumbled, snapping her fingers repeatedly as if that would help her remember. They were black leather, but not so much dressy as functional...work shoes, for someone who spent a lot of time on his feet. “I remember helping pick them out! I did, didn’t I?” She had a hazy memory of standing in front of a display of similar shoes, with someone at her side.

“Of course you did,” he said, as if this were obvious, grinning affectionately at her. “You’ve picked out most of my clothes.” His voice sounded a bit rougher...fuller...now than it had before, and she stared at him. “What?”

“I think the spell might be wearing off,” she announced confidently.

“Do you think so?” He glanced at his watch. “Bloody hell! It’s almost midnight!”

Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was only five minutes until midnight. “Do you want to go inside?” Hermione suggested, moving toward the door. “Maybe we should get you back to St. Mungo's...”

“Wait!” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Can we just stay out here until we know for sure that it's wearing off?” he asked hopefully.

Hermione shivered. Something about his eyes was making her stomach feel strange. “If you’re planning to kill me at midnight or something, I will come back and haunt you forever,” she joked, trying to ease the sudden tension between them.

“What?” He barked out a startled laugh. “I’m not going to kill you, Hermione! I lo-” he shut his mouth abruptly. He took a few deep breaths, then seemed to steel himself. “We should talk. If the spell wears off; if you remember any of this...”

“Do we need to talk about...us?” Hermione asked hesitantly, feeling like she was risking everything. The spell had made it pretty clear that whoever he was, her life made no sense without him in it. But there must be some reason they weren’t dating. What if she didn’t have the same feelings for him that he had for her?

“We should see if the spell wears off...” His voice was definitely deeper now, and slightly scratchy, but she preferred it like this. It made her feel safe.

“Why?” She asked, biting her lip.

“Because I’ve already told you who I am three times now, but you don't even remember that I told you, do you? I’m nervous enough about finally telling you how I feel about you without possibly having to keep repeating it a million times until it sticks,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“W-what?” Hermione frowned. “You haven’t told me who you are...”

“Uh, I have, actually, but the spell keeps making you forget.” He chuckled rather bitterly, and reached up under the feathers on his mask, running his hands through his hair in a way that sparked another startling flash of deja vu.

“No, I distinctly remember you telling me that I’d forget who you are if you told me,” Hermione argued, gritting her teeth against the dizziness currently washing over her. “You didn’t actually tell me who you are...”

“Well...at least you remember _that_ part.” he sighed.

“Who came up with this vile spell anyway?” Hermione asked again in frustration, relaxing her jaw as the dizziness faded.

“You’d probably expect that it was an escaped Death Eater, but it was actually just a disgruntled spellcrafter from the Department of Mysteries.” He shrugged one shoulder. “He was pissed that they wouldn't let him experiment on live subjects, so he quit his job, then sent an owl to his old supervisor after a few weeks, not so vaguely threatening to test his latest spell on the public. We’ve been trying to find him for about a week and a half now. I finally caught up with him at a muggle shopping mall in Edinburgh, and managed to take stun him at the same time he cast on me...”

“Are you an Unspeakable?” Hermione asked, wondering if the rumored secret sub division of the Department of Mysteries might, in fact, be real.

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “Nothing that interest-.”

“Wait!” Hermione interrupted, snapping her fingers repeatedly again, as if it would help her hang on to the elusive image that suddenly popped in her head...a vague memory of people cheering, and a blurry figure whirling through the air on a broomstick, joined by someone she recognized immediately. “I’ve seen you play Quidditch with Oliver, haven't I? Do you play for Puddlemere?”

“And hunt down rogue ministry nerds with grudges in my spare time?” he replied, chuckling flatly, and shaking his head. “I’ve played with Ollie, but not for ages, and not professionally.”

“Gryffindor!” She shouted triumphantly. “You played for Gryffindor!”

“Yes, I did” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “I think maybe you really are beginning to remember me. I’m gonna take off the mask now. Hopefully you won't puke...”

Normally, this statement probably would have worried her, but she had just remembered something else, and it distracted her. She looked back at his shoes, clearly picturing them peeking out from below dark red auror robes. “You’re an auror!” she gasped, poking him in the chest excitedly. “You work with Ron!”

“Hardly ever, actually. He’s in a different unit, now. But yes, I’m an auror.” He smiled nervously, and reached for his mask. “I’m gonna take this off now. You might get dizzy, or...well, it might look like I have no face,” he warned, shuddering slightly.

“But my head won’t explode or anything?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Doubtful.” He chuckled quietly, and pulled off the mask.

Hermione blinked. It was really weird, standing in front of someone she knew she should recognize, but not being able to put a name to the face. It definitely didn’t help that parts of his face were flickering in an odd sort of way, as if a metamorphmagus was practicing changing one feature at a time. As she watched, his eyes flashed from blue, to green, to hazel, to brown, back to green, then to blue, then green, then brown, then green again, while his attractively messy hair underwent a similar rapid transformation, flickering mostly between dark red, dark brown, and black. “Ugh!” she moaned, covering her eyes. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry.” She felt calloused fingers lightly rubbing her temples, and relaxed into the sensation. “My eyes are _green_ , Hermione. They’re green. You know me...” he murmured. “Come on, remember me...”

Inside, they heard the other guests suddenly start counting down from sixty. “That’s going to get old before they reach zero...” Hermione muttered, snorting. Risking another peek at him, she saw that his eyes had finally settled on a beautiful, emerald green, just like he’d said, and it seemed like his facial features had stopped shifting, though his hair was still trying to decide on a color. He had nice cheekbones, but not as pronounced as George’s or Malfoy’s. His face was quite a bit a bit wider than Malfoy’s, but not as round as Ron’s, and he had a strong, square jaw, covered in the same thick stubble that covered his chin. In fact, he had almost a full beard, as if he hadn’t shaved in a week or so. She normally disliked facial hair, but the look definitely worked for him. “You’re really cute...” she blurted without thinking. “Are you sure I’m not attracted to you?” she asked, blushing furiously.

Whatever was keeping them from dating, she was sure it wasn't a lack of attraction on her part. Despite his belief that she didn't feel that way about him, she thought he was gorgeous. However, a knot was starting to form in the pit of her stomach, as if she felt guilty for thinking about him that way, as if he was off limits for some reason.

His eyebrows shot up, and he grinned back as his cheeks reddened slightly. “Uh...well...I’m not completely sure, I guess.” Inside, the counting was down into the teens, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously before leaning closer. “Isn’t it traditional to kiss someone at midnight on New Year’s Eve?” he asked just as his hair turned black, and stopped changing.

“Mmmhmm...” Hermione murmured, feeling her cheeks burn as he bent lower. His breath, which smelled slightly like chocolate, tickled her cheek, and her eyes slid shut just as his lips brushed against hers. A jolt, like electricity but far more pleasant, shot through her as they made contact, and judging by his gasp, he felt something similar. They moved simultaneously, their bodies pressing together, and she slid her fingers into his hair, holding him to her just as he flicked his tongue across her bottom lip, gently trying to deepen the kiss. Sighing contentedly, she let her lips part, and he tentatively licked the inside of her mouth, making her gasp as a sharp wave of arousal swept through her. She never would have imagined that she’d ever find herself kissing her best friend like this, let alone that it would be the most amazing kiss of her life.

Wait...what? _Best friend_?!

She went rigid with shock, almost biting Harry’s tongue by accident as she jerked her head back, staring up at him dazedly. “Oh my god...H-Harry?!” she gasped breathlessly, clasping her hand to her chest as her heart rate skyrocketed.

“Spell’s gone,” Harry murmured, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck again. “Hi. I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to do that. It’ll never happen again, I promise. I just got caught up in the moment because...well, I did mean to tell you how I feel tonight, before all this happened. I just got carried away, because you’re so beautiful, and you could _see_ me. I know you were just confused because of that bloody spell, though. I never should have come here.” He growled frustratedly, and clenched his fists around a handful of his hair, messing it up even more as he started to turn away. “I’m really sorry. I’m just gonna leave you alone like I should have before.”

Still in shock, and fighting off the last lingering traces of the spell, it took a moment for Hermione to fully register everything that had just happened. Reaching up, she briefly touched her lips, which were still tingling from the kiss they’d shared. The _absolutely mind blowing kiss_...which was especially stunning because it had been _Harry_. She’d never felt anything like that with anyone. As dangerous and frustrating as the spell on him had been, it had opened her eyes to one thing...Harry was the most important person in her life. Her life had seemed so boring and empty when she couldn’t remember him. Harry was anything but boring, and there was no one else she wanted to spend time with more than him. They almost always ate lunch together in the Ministry cafeteria, at least whenever he wasn’t busy on a case. And there were the frequent evenings they spent together after work, not to mention almost all of their time on weekends. They were practically dating, for Merlin’s sake!

And, now that she’d acknowledged that subject...how long had there been such strong physical chemistry between them? She touched her lips again thoughtfully. Obviously he felt it too, and she couldn’t deny it now that she’d noticed. How long had she gone about her life completely oblivious to the fact that the perfect guy for her was right under her nose? Except...she looked around in confusion when she suddenly realized she was alone.  “Wait! Harry! Come back!” she yelped, shaking herself out of her daze, and bolting after him. “Harry!”

The living room was in utter chaos, with everyone kissing, and hugging, blowing paper horns, singing “Auld Lang Syne” (despite the fact that no one really seemed to know the words), and loudly wishing each other Happy New Year. Hermione rose up on her tiptoes, looking around frantically, but she couldn’t see Harry anywhere. Spotting Ron in the corner snogging Luna, she quickly pushed her way through the crowd. “Ron! Ron!” she shouted, pulling him away from the rather intimate kiss the two were engaged in.

“What?!” Ron bellowed irritably before he saw who had interrupted them. “Oh, ‘Mione...what’s wrong?” he asked, instantly looking concerned. Hermione realized her hair was probably a total mess after being out on the windy balcony for so long, and her makeup was likely ruined after kissing Harry. Speaking of which...

“Did you see which way Harry went?” Hermione asked, knowing even as she spoke that it was a ridiculous question. She wasn't sure if the spell was entirely gone, and the couple had been far too absorbed in each other to have noticed Harry under normal circumstances. They’d probably miss him even if he stripped naked, painted himself purple, and danced around right in front of them. She giggled at the thought, and Luna grinned a bit too knowingly, making her wonder, not for the first time, if the other witch could read minds.

“Harry’s here?” Ron yelled to be heard over their loudly celebrating friends. “I didn’t see him come in...” he trailed off, looking very confused. “Harry who? Wasn't he on a case?”

“You wouldn’t have noticed,” Hermione muttered, realizing he was still shrugging off the remnants of the spell. “Sorry I disturbed you...” she mumbled sheepishly.

She’d begun looking around again, jumping up and down in a vain attempt to see past her ridiculously large number of much taller friends, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Whirling around, she found Malfoy, who froze when he saw the (probably) frantic expression on her face. They stood in awkward silence until his fiancée nudged him impatiently. “Uh...are you looking for Potter?” He finally asked, slipping his arm around Astoria, and creeping slightly behind her as if he’d like to use her as a human shield. To her credit, Astoria simply elbowed him again, and shoved him forward an inch or so, causing Ron to snicker.

“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed. “Have you seen him?” If it were anyone but Malfoy she would have grabbed him in her eagerness to hear anything he knew about Harry, but since they were only polite acquaintances at best, she refrained.

“He left,” Malfoy said, pointing at the front door. “He looked rather upset. Is everything alright?”

“Uh...no. I mean...yes. I mean, it will be. Thanks!” Hermione pushed past him, rolling her eyes at Ron’s mumbled, “Harry _who_?!” in the background.

Not bothering to try to find her cloak and handbag in the jumbled mess on the coat rack by the door, she rushed downstairs, and out of the building. Scurrying along the slippery sidewalk to the nearby apparation point, she immediately turned on her heel, concentrating on her destination...

Grimmauld Place looked deserted from the sidewalk, but Hermione knew that Harry had charmed the windows to make it always appear vacant after he'd had the Fidelus Charm removed about a year ago. Because people tended to make a big fuss over him when he was recognized out in public, he generally preferred to stay home and order take out from muggle restaurants. It had made his life unnecessarily complicated when the delivery people couldn’t find the house. Although the Fidelus was gone, there were still several extremely strong wards in place to prevent anyone but a very select few from entering without his permission. Hermione was one of those few. As soon as she placed her palm over the lock, there was a soft click, and the door swung inward, allowing a stream of soft candle light to flood the darkened stoop. “Harry?!” she called down the hallway as she closed and relocked the door behind her. Shivering slightly as she finally registered how cold she was, she wrapped her arms around herself, and quickly made her way to the cozy parlor where Harry kept his television and computer, which Arthur had helped him charm to work without electricity. The room was dark and empty.

“Harry?!” she called down the stairs to the kitchen, but unless he was sitting down there in the dark, he wasn’t there, either. “ _Hominum Revellum_!” she muttered impatiently, not in the mood to search the entire house. A dim ball of gold light appeared in front of her, bobbing up and down until she moved closer, then drifting up the stairs. Swallowing nervously, she followed it all the way to the third floor. It passed through a door halfway down the hallway on the left...Harry’s bedroom. Hesitating outside the closed door, Hermione swallowed again, then knocked quietly. “Harry, can I come in, please?”

She couldn’t make out his muffled response, but the door opened a moment later, revealing Harry, who was now dressed in a pair of dark green plaid sleep pants, and nothing else. Hermione felt her eyes widen as she noticed his toned stomach, and the narrow trail of black hair that disappeared beneath the soft material of the pajamas. If she were completely honest with herself, though, this wasn’t the first time she had noticed how fit he was. How had she not admitted to herself how bloody attractive he was before she almost lost him to that wretched spell?! “Um...whoa...I really am dense, aren’t I?” she joked nervously, dragging her eyes up to his face, then wincing. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Oh, Harry...” she began, moving closer.

“Don’t,” he whispered hoarsely, taking a step back. “I’m fine now. I’ll be fine. You didn’t have to come check on me. I just need some time. I’ll be fine.” His dejected tone brought tears to her eyes, and she impulsively threw her arms around him.

“I didn’t come here to check on you, idiot,” she murmured, nuzzling against his shoulder, and smiling when he hesitantly brought his arms up to return the embrace.

“Why did you come?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Remembering one of her favorite movies, which they’d watched together recently, she smiled. “‘I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!’ Or something like that,” she quoted, her smile widening when his arms tightened around her.

“You want...” A tentative smile crossed his face as he drew his head back to finally look her in the eye.

“You,” she replied, nodding as she reached up and trailed a finger along his jaw, stopping at his chin. “I want _you_ , Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, and he grinned teasingly, saying, “Well, for the brightest witch of your age, you can be remarkably thick sometimes.”

“Shut up, and kiss me again, you prat,” Hermione giggled, slapping him lightly on the chest.

“Merlin, your hands are cold!” he yelped, flinching. “Come here...” he ordered gently, taking her hands in both of his and leading her to the bed, pushing her down to sit on the edge before he draped a soft, red knitted blanket around her. “You’re bloody freezing, Hermione!” he scolded as he knelt in front of her, and began rubbing her hands and arms in an attempt to warm her up.

“It was kind of cold on Neville’s balcony,” Hermione admitted, leaning into his touch. “I guess we didn’t notice the warming spell had worn off.” As soon as she said the words, they both sat up a bit, rolling their eyes at their mutual inability to remember that they had magic in emotional situations. “Merlin, neither one of us are very bright, are we?” Hermione giggled as Harry cast a quick, wandless warming charm on her.

“Yes, well, at least you have an excuse. That bloody spell was messing with your head earlier. You have so many memories of me for it to erase, it’s probably a minor miracle you still remember your name,” he grumbled. “I’m really sorry I put you through all that, Hermione,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “I just missed you, and I had to see you, just in case...”

“Stop apologizing, Harry!” Hermione scolded gently. “It's not your fault! I'm just so glad you're okay.”

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, by the way,” Harry sat back on his heels and looked her up and down. “Gorgeous.”

Hermione leaned forward, and kissed him. She did so mostly because she’d wanted to kiss him again ever since he’d ended their first kiss, but also...in small part...she did so because she never really knew what to say when someone complimented her. She didn’t want to risk saying something embarrassing that might ruin this new facet of their relationship. Kissing him seemed like an excellent way to prevent that. His lips felt even nicer than she remembered from their first kiss (probably because hers were no longer half frozen), but the angle was all wrong, and she quickly decided that he needed to be a lot closer. She tried to pull him forward, between her knees, but the skirt of her dress was too constrictive, and she ended up nearly falling over in her struggle to pull it further up her thighs. “Oh Merlin, I really do suck at trying to be sexy,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

“No, you really don’t.” Harry said reassuringly. “I don’t know how you can sit down in that thing at all, though.” He shook his head, laughing quietly as he stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Um...I could lend you something more comfortable...I mean...if you want to stay for a while?” His eyes dipped briefly to her legs, then darted away for a moment before returning to her face. When he looked back, Hermione noticed his pupils had expanded, leaving only a thin ring of emerald green, and her stomach fluttered.

“Define a while,” she requested softly, biting her lip and clenching her fists to keep from reaching for him. She figured they probably ought to have some sort of discussion...to define their relationship...before they went any further. Because she definitely _wanted_ to go further, and the sooner the better. The war had proven life could be far too short, and they'd wasted far too much time already.

Harry made a show of checking his watch. “Uh...how about forever?” he asked, grinning nervously. “I think I’ve got forever available, for _you_.”

“Okay,” Hermione’s voice squeaked a bit as she tried to reply casually. Clearing her throat, she tried in vain to tone down her ridiculously happy grin, and said, “Forever works for me, too.”

Harry’s answering smile was equally ridiculous and happy. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers, and whispered, “I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you, too.” Hermione squirmed a bit closer, trying to get comfortable. Had her dress really been this tight earlier?

Harry kissed her lightly. “Come on, let’s find you something else to wear. As amazing as you look, it’s almost painful to watch you trying to move. I don’t know how girls do it...” He turned toward his dresser as he spoke, and Hermione’s mouth went dry at the sight of the lean muscles rippling across his back.

“Or, we could just skip the clothes, and go to bed,” she suggested, blushing a bit as she reached back to lower her zipper. Harry glanced back over his shoulder, and his eyes widened as he swallowed audibly. Thrilled with his reaction, Hermione decided to try to play it up a bit. When she reached up to release her hair from whatever remained of Ginny’s handiwork, her hand brushed against something rough, and she realized she was still wearing her mask. “Harry! Why didn’t you tell me I still had this on?” she asked, feeling embarrassed as she pulled her wand from its hidden pocket in the side of her dress.

Harry smiled sheepishly. “I thought you knew it was there. Anyway, it’s kind of sexy...” he added with a wink.

“Brat,” Hermione freed the mask from the sticking charm, and tossed it playfully at his head.

He caught it without even looking. “When are you going to learn not to try to chuck things at an auror? Especially a former seeker?” he asked, smirking sexily.

“How do you plan to stop me?” Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips and drawing her shoulders back, deliberately emphasizing her chest, and also making the straps of the dress slip dangerously low on her shoulders. She suddenly remembered the sticking charms she'd cast earlier, and wanted to smack herself for not realizing sooner that they were the reason the dress was now interfering with her movement.

Before she could do anything about them, Harry muttered, “I'm sure I can come up with something.” Letting out a low growl, he stalked toward her, grasped her by the hips, and pushed her back down on the bed, adjusting quickly so they could both lie down, then rolled halfway on top of her. “Did you mean it about going to bed? I...I don't want to pressure you,” he whispered, gazing intently into her eyes.

“I meant it,” Hermione whispered back. “It's not like we need to get to know each other, Harry,” she pointed out. “Besides, I realized earlier we've been dating for a few years now, only without some of the better parts.” With that, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, weaving her fingers into his hair, and kissed him passionately, nipping his lower lip until he opened his mouth. He responded instantly, meeting her tongue with his own as he rolled his hips, pressing his groin into her left thigh. Heat flooded her lower abdomen when she felt him hardening against her. “Fuck!” she gasped, trying again to pull her skirt up, and pushing down his sleep pants at the same time.

“Yes,” Harry mumbled, nodding and dragging his lips from her mouth to kiss his way along her jaw to her ear. “Please...”

After struggling hopelessly with her dress for a moment, Hermione once again remembered that she was a witch, and murmured, “ _Divesto_!” All of their clothing promptly disappeared, leaving them completely naked in each other’s arms. Harry growled again, and kissed his way down her neck, pausing to suck on her collarbone as he moved his hands to her breasts and began to play with her nipples, making her jerk as little jolts of pleasure shot straight to her groin.

“Harry, please...” Hermione whined, sliding her own hands down his sides and settling them on his hips, trying to pull him further on top of her. “Please...” She’d never become so aroused so quickly in her life, but she felt like she was ready to explode, and she knew it was because she was with _Harry_. How she'd denied her feelings for him for so long was beyond her.

“I kinda doubt I'm going to last very long, ‘Mi...” Harry mumbled before slowly dragging his tongue across her left nipple. “I wanna make sure you feel good.”

“Oh god, I feel plenty good!” Hermione gasped, arching into him. “There’s plenty of time for all of that later, I promise. _Please_...” She tugged on his hips again, but he stubbornly started to kiss his way down her stomach. “Harry James Potter, listen to me!” she growled, moving her hands to his hair, and jerking his head up so she could look him in the eyes. “I really don't need foreplay right now, and if you don't hurry up and make love to me, I'll just take matters into my own hands. Do you really want that?” she asked, smirking when his eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open.

“Uh, that actually sounds like it might be kind of fun to watch sometime, but not right now...” Harry grinned wickedly once he’d finally collected himself after several seconds of staring blankly at her. “For now, since you insist...” he murmured, ducking his head so he could nuzzle her neck as he finally slid fully on top of her, and settled between her legs.

Hermione exhaled slowly, trying to relax as she felt him bump against her a few times before finding the right angle, and slowly beginning to slip inside. “Oh gods...” she mumbled, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Screwing her eyes shut, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and pressed her face against his shoulder.

Harry stopped moving immediately, and tried to pull away, firing off a series of worried questions, “Are you alright? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? We should stop...”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed, trying to hold him back as he tried to climb off her. “I'm fine, really. It's silly...I'm just...” she trailed off with a rueful chuckle. “Sorry, I've just...I don't think I've ever been this...happy?” It was rather pathetic, she realized, that she hadn't ever experienced such an untainted feeling of joy. The closest she'd come was when she'd realized Harry wasn't really dead during the Battle of Hogwarts, but even that moment was spoiled by the loss of the many who _had_ died that day.

Harry raised an eyebrow, then a sympathetic smile slowly crept across his face. “Neither have I,” he whispered, dropping his head to kiss her tenderly. Hermione sighed into his mouth, and slid her fingers into his hair, pouring everything she was feeling into the kiss. Harry was clearly emotional as well, and she felt a few tears that were not her own drip onto her face when he slowly pressed forward and buried himself inside her. “Gods, finally,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers for a moment. “Still alright?” he whispered, lifting his head to peer anxiously at her.

“More than,” Hermione replied, giggling and wriggling her hips slightly, trying to adjust to having him inside her. He felt amazing, but it had been almost a year since she'd last been with anyone.

“Can I move now?” Harry ground out a moment later, his strained expression revealing just how much effort it required on his part to remain still.

“Please,” Hermione urged, nodding vigorously.

Letting out a soft moan, Harry slowly rocked his hips against her, the resulting sensation sending a flush of heat throughout Hermione’s abdomen. As he repeated the motion, gradually increasing his pace, she tried to match his movements, groaning loudly when he ground his public bone against her in a way that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Fuck, you feel amazing...” he muttered, burying his face in her hair as his movements became more erratic. “Are you close?”

“Mmmhmm,” she murmured, arching into him and twisting her hips to try to recreate the sensation that had her already on edge. She couldn’t believe how quickly the tension was building.

Catching on quickly, Harry swiveled his hips, forcing another loud moan from her throat. “Like that?” he panted. At her frantic answering nod, he repeated the motion, then again, and again, until the built up pressure let loose, and her body clamped down around him as waves of pleasure swept through her.

Hermione was only vaguely aware that he shouted her name and went rigid above her, his hips jerking a few more times before he slumped on top of her, moving slightly to one side so as not to crush her. They lay quietly for a few minutes, lightly stroking each other's backs and arms as they tried to catch their breath. Finally, Harry groaned, and rolled off her, drawing complaining moans and sighs from both of them as he withdrew. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and drew her into a tight embrace, gently kissing her shoulder, then her neck, her cheek, and finally her lips before dropping his head to the pillows beneath them, tired lyrics mumbling something she couldn't make out.

“Huh?” Apparently, it might actually be possible to have one’s brains snagged out, because that was the most articulate way she could come up with to politely ask him to repeat himself. Especially while she was distracted by running the fingers of her left hand over his chest and upper abdomen.

“Did you really mean it?” he mumbled.

“Mean what?” Hermione murmured, craving her head around to kiss him on the chin.

“About staying with me forever?” he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Hermione smiled. “You know, Ginny mentioned she and Oliver were thinking about renting a flat here in London. Kind of a home base for when they both have time off. I guess it’s getting pretty awkward with them both living out of their parents’ places. I’m allowed to sublet my flat,” she replied, trying not to sound like she was practically doing jumping jacks on the inside.

“That would be perfect. He mentioned it to Ron and I last time he was in town, and I offered to let them stay here, but Oliver thought it would be awkward...” Harry said, his tone not quite hitting that of casual conversation.

There was a brief moment of quiet, then they both sat up, eagerly wrapping their arms around each other. “We're really doing this? You're moving in?!” Harry asked eagerly.

“If you really want me to,” Hermione said, smiling affectionately at him and running her fingers through his hair, which was slightly damp, and messier than she'd ever seen. It was a great look for him, she decided.

“Of course I want you to. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,” Harry pointed out with a grin, which quickly dissolved into a huge yawn.

“Goodness, it's later than I thought,” Hermione gasped after a quick glance at the clock on his bedside table revealed it was nearly two AM. “Did we doze off of something?”

“Entirely possible,” Harry mumbled, kissing her neck. “I think I might have blacked out at the end, actually. That was...” he trailed off with a shrug. “I'm not sure there are adequate words.”

“Well, no wonder,” Hermione snuggled closer, pressing him back into the pillows. “You've been on assignment for days, you managed to capture a dangerous lunatic, and you nearly...” she trailed off with a shudder, unable to actually say the words.

Harry’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed her sleepily on the forehead. “But I didn’t. I'm right here, thanks to you.”

“You really think I broke the spell somehow?” Hermione whispered, stroking the back of his hand, mostly to reassure herself he was really still there.

“Know you did,” Harry mumbled around another yawn. “You’d never let anything happen to me.” His arms relaxed their hold slightly, and Hermione realized he'd fallen asleep. Smiling to herself, she laid her head on his chest, and let herself drift off as well. Shed figure out how the spell was broken later. For now, she was just really happy that Ginny didn't know how take no for an answer.  


**Author's Note:**

> I started this a little over a year ago, but didn't finish it in time for New Year’s Eve last year. I wasn't sure why my muse insisted it had to take place on New Years Eve, but while trying to find a title last night, I came across this: http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2012/12/auld-lang-syne-what-does-it-mean-again/ and realized it really did have to be a New Year’s story. Yes, the movie she quotes is "When Harry Met Sally," one of the best movies ever! 
> 
> The way the spell was broken isn't some sappy true love's kiss thing...it's pure stubbornness on Hermione’s part. Some small part of her brain refused to forget him, and once she actively started trying to remember, it didn't stand a chance. The only way the spell would succeed in erasing him was if literally everyone forgot Harry ever existed first. Once she remembered him, it was over. (The kiss did help though).
> 
> Oh, and Harry is book height in this one, and the summary is not a jab at Daniel Radcliffe's height. ;-)


End file.
